


Rey Makes A Decision

by kalx58



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abortion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Roommates, Soft Ben Solo, Thirsty Rey (Star Wars), Unplanned Pregnancy, aggressively pro choice, fuck mitch mcconnell, no sex but rey is very horny, past rey/omc (regrettable himbo), rey gets a no-big-deal abortion and that's the plot, rey gets the platonic ideal of an abortion access wise, set in current us hellscape but no covid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26669227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalx58/pseuds/kalx58
Summary: “Is this our first date?”“Well. We went to a place and did an activity. I think it counts. Can I kiss you, Ben?”“Are you sure?” He looks into her eyes, but not in a romantic way. “You seem pretty Valium-ed.”
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 79
Kudos: 168





	Rey Makes A Decision

**Author's Note:**

> The past week made me very angry so I very quickly wrote this little thing! I also always want more casual portrayals of abortion in my media, since it's often depicted as [more dangerous than it is](https://www.bitchmedia.org/post/films-and-tv-portray-abortion-as-more-dangerous-than-it-is). (Shout out to Crazy Ex-Girlfriend and Jane the Virgin for their [much better portrayals](https://themuse.jezebel.com/the-most-recent-episode-of-crazy-ex-girlfriend-featured-1788966754).)

Weird, Rey thinks when she throws up one morning, but doesn’t feel sick. 

Huh, Rey thinks when she misses her period.

Fuck, Rey thinks, staring down at the two lines. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

* * *

“I’m so stupid,” Rey wails into Rose’s sweatshirt that night.

“You’re not. I’m so sorry, Rey. It’s going to be okay,” Rose says, resting her chin on Rey’s hair, rubbing her back. “I’ll help you with whatever. We can figure it out.”

“I don’t want to have a baby! I don’t even know if I want to, ever. But if I do, I want to be great at it, and be 100% sure and be a fucking amazing parent with cute clothes and a baby book and shit. Not now. I just started paying off my student loans. I want to go to Iceland first,” she says with a sob.

“I thought you were on birth control?”

“I was out of pills and forgot to go to CVS. I thought it might be fine if I took two the next day. And...I told him we didn’t have to use a condom.” 

She moans some more, and straightens up to lean back against the couch cushion, wrapping herself in a blanket. 

“He was so hot,” Rey whimpers. “He surfed, I think. And he had these big hands.” 

She’s never that irresponsible. But a stressful work week two month ago, and a horniness that she couldn’t sate with the actual, unobtainable, even larger-handed object of her longtime lust —her roommate Ben—had weakened her. She’d smiled big and told the dim, blonde surfer (“I’ve never voted,” he’d said, smiling guiltily at the bar, not actually seeming all that remorseful) that yeah, sure, it’s okay, when they’d been groping each other and he said he didn’t have anything. Rey feels disgusted with herself. He didn’t make her come. He didn’t even have a bed, just a mattress on the ground. God, of all the people to procreate with. 

“It’s stupid. I know I want to have an abortion. I just feel dumb or guilty for getting in this situation, or something.”

Rose sighs, refills Rey’s wine glass and thrusts it at her. “Feel whatever you feel. But abortion isn’t something the government deigns to allow you only if you have like, the perfect, respectable set of circumstances. Not saying you are, but even if you were being a big ole irresponsible slut—”

“I was, it’s fine.” 

“But it’s your right to be an irresponsible slut. I mean, it’s not really the ideal way to go about it, but this kind of situation is why abortion exists, so you can get one, or as many as you need. That hypocritical, jowly piece of shit is trying his best, but it is still legal. It’s just a medical procedure you can get or not get. And that’s literally it.” 

Rey slams her wine glass down on the coffee table. “Yeah!” 

There’s a knock on the door. 

“I can grab that. You stay here. Is Ben going to be around?”

“Not until later.” He’s out. He hadn’t said why. Probably doing hot, older guy things. Wine tasting? Reshuffling his 401k allocations? Buying another jewel toned sweater that makes her want to write shitty poems about how handsome he is? 

Finn hugs her when he walks in. She lets out a long “ugh” against his chest. 

“I’m an idiot.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he says pleasantly. She laughs. And then they open the six pack of beer he brought. 

Finn and Rose start telling her dumb decision they’ve made to make her feel better. Rose talks wistfully about a Spanish man with tender eyes, “who I let raw me in a hostel bunkbed in Paris with eight other people around, and have you ever tried to buy the morning after pill in a foreign language?” 

“I wish we didn’t have any of it,” Rey says dramatically, waving a hand around her stomach.

When Ben comes home, they’re all kind of drunk. Finn is telling them about the time at a music festival when he picked up a baggie of pills on the ground, and took not one, but two of them, because the first one didn’t seem to do anything, and then he couldn’t open his jaw to eat anything for nine hours, and some girl had to feed him a Slurpee, as Ben walks in, dropping his keys on the table by the door. “Hey guys,” he says.

“Ben,” Rey calls, smiling at him from the couch. “We’re talking about our regrets. Grab one of these and tell us something stupid you’ve done.” 

“Well,” he says, sitting down in the armchair by the couch and taking one of the beers. “I told my dad I hated him and never wanted to see him again in a huge fight once.”

They all get quiet. Rey’s eyes widen. Kiss him and soothe over every hurt he’s ever had, suggests the two glasses of wine and one beer she’s consumed. 

“Oh,” he says, looking uncomfortable at their reactions, sipping his beer. “You probably wanted something more fun. Uh. Let me think.” 

Rey giggles. He smiles at her. She hopes she doesn’t look like she’s been crying. Maybe she can use the pregnancy glow to her advantage during this brief window. 

* * *

“Yep. you’re pregnant,” the doctor says. “Also, no signs of any STIs. Let’s talk about your options.” 

“Actually, I’m pretty sure—I mean, I know I want to, um.” Terminate sounds so clinical, Rey thinks. “Have an abortion.” 

“Okay. Are you happy with your current birth control? Because we can also do the IUD insertion during the procedure, if that’s something you’re interested in.” 

“Actually.” Rey thinks of endless blister packets, acne and daily phone alarms. “Getting an IUD would be great.” 

The doctor nods. “Talk to the front desk about scheduling. We should be able to get you in next week. I’m writing you a script for what you need. Don’t drink beforehand. Get someone to drive you home. Have you ever taken Valium before?”

* * *

“Turn there,” Rose calls from the back seat. “I want a burger.”

“They have literally no healthy options,” Finn says, turning down the radio. “I want something virtuous. Or at least keto.” 

“I want a burger, too. You can get it without a bun. And I’m pregnant. I have cravings. You have to let me pick,” Rey says primly from the passenger seat.

Finn rolls his eyes, but signals for the street with the burger place. 

There’s been a tension with Ben recently, Rey thinks as Finn tries to find street parking. They’d lived together for a year. She’d wanted him for half of that time. And now, things like yesterday morning's interaction keep happening: they'd both reached for the Aeropress at the same time. “Oh, sorry,” she’d breathed, pushing it toward him across the table, peeking up at him and biting her lip.

He‘d stopped her movements with his hand, pushing it back toward her. “Oh, no—” he’d said, just as softly, looking straight at her, smiling a little. “You can go first.” 

She tells her friends about it now. Finn starts shaking his head halfway through her story, and doesn’t stop. Rose looks grossed out. “No offense, Rey. But you’re both being incredibly embarrassing. Ask him out.” 

“I don’t know if he’s into it.” 

“He only smiles at you.”

“Eh…”

“No, really. Remember when we were at the park for your birthday and how my sister brought Spud? Everyone loves Spud. No one can ignore a three-legged pitbull. But no, Ben only smiled at you.” 

* * *

“Hey, Ben?”

“What’s up?” He looks up from his book. Their armchair frames his large body so exquisitely. The book is lucky to be held in those firm yet gentle paws. A thoughtful frown makes him somehow more attractive. Is this pregnancy brain, Rey wonders as she glances hungrily at his ears (slightly, perfectly large, the ideal thing to grab for balance as she rode him in this very chair?)

“Can I borrow your car tomorrow? I need to run an errand.”

He smiles. “Yeah, of course. Any time. I just put gas into it, so you should be good.” 

She smiles back, hoping he hasn’t noticed how much she’s been throwing up. 

* * *

  
  


The next day, there’s a long line at the pharmacy. Rey looks at all the people around her, thinking about all the injuries and sudden, life-altering events that make you end up here. So many things can happen to you, without warning, at any time. She buys Ben some generic loratadine, since he always looks miserable when the pollen count is high. 

* * *

Rey isn’t that nervous about the abortion itself. She’s mainly excited, but there’s a healthy, reasonable amount of nerves underpinning it, she thinks: the possibility that she has some kind of wacky uterus that will complicate things, the potential pain. She also doesn’t love going to the doctor. (For years, every visit had resulted in a shocked, “That’s when your last visit was?” coupled with a barrage of shots.) But planning for it—setting out her sweatpants, organizing her pills, putting her out-of-office reply on, stowing a light snack in her purse—makes her feel more in control about the whole situation. 

There’s just one thing she forgot, she remembers as she jolts awake at 4 a.m. the day of the procedure: a ride. She bikes everywhere. But fuck, she read online about the necessity of getting a ride. The drugs will make her insensible. The doctor had told her. How could she have been so stupid? Again? 

Shut up, a voice echoes in her head as she buries her head in her hands and groans. It sounds like a combination of Rose and Finn. She takes a deep breath, and then dashes out of the room, because she’s seized with a sudden attack of nausea. When she crawls back into bed, she decides to stop chastising herself. She’s too tired. She’ll figure it out. 

After sleeping fitfully for a few more hours, she wakes to the sound of the shower. Ben. He only showers in the mornings on the days he works from home. 

Rey sits up in bed, and stares at the door. Finn is working at a site in a different city for the rest of this week. Rose uses her sister’s car, and has to bill in 15-minute increments for her clients. She doesn’t want to call either of them, even though she knows they’d come running. She hears the shower turn off, and thinks about the time she vomited after her birthday, how Ben brought her water and a scrunchie when she was on the floor, and gently teased her the next day, which was actually the most thoughtful part, since it assuaged her hungover shame.

He’s leaving the bathroom when she steps into the hall. 

“Hey, Ben,” she says, smiling tentatively. 

“Oh hi, Rey.” He smiles back, clutching the towel around his waist. 

His bare chest is a distraction. But she has a deadline. “Ben. I’m pregnant.”

“Oh.” His eyebrows jerk up.

“And I’m having an abortion.” 

When he doesn’t immediately respond with, “I support all your choices, Rey, reproductive and otherwise,” she scowls at him. Maybe he doesn’t doesn’t deserve all the long, sloppy blowjobs she’d fantasized about giving him while watching “Gilmore Girls” on the couch together. (“I think they do a really great job of showing the issues between generations of families,” she’d heard him say passionately to a bored-looking Rose once. “And everyone shits on Rory, but I think she’s caught in a really hard place.”)

He seems to pick up on the venom in her eyes. “Oh! Um. I wanted to say I’m sorry, but that doesn’t feel—”

“Yeah. I’m not—”

“Yeah. Ah. Good...for you?”

She laughs a little at his concerned expression. He shifts, leaning against the wall. He’s still holding onto the towel. Just let it drop, she thinks. “Thank you for your wholehearted support of my autonomy, Ben.” 

He smiles. “My mom actually had an ‘Abortion is healthcare’ magnet on our fridge growing up. I learned to say it before I learned what I meant. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay. But, um. I’m having it today.”

“Oh. That’s cool.” 

“Yeah. It was efficient…” She trails off, looking past him. Ask him, she tells herself. Ask him now. 

“Rey?”

He always shares his pasta with her. He lets her borrow his car. He’d even let her make coffee before him that one time, while he sat at their kitchen table, looking fidgety. 

“Would you go with me?” she whispers, still looking to the side of him. “I’m supposed to get a ride back, you don’t have to stay—I think they have WiFi in the waiting room.”

“What? Yeah, of course, Rey.” She turns back at his relieved tone, like he’s more than happy to help. God, she likes him a lot. “Is there anything else I can do?” 

“No, I’m about to take some Valium and Vicodin. I’ll be floating soon. Thank you so much, Ben.” 

“Let me just tell my work I’ll be out today,” he says, turning to walk into his bedroom.

“Oh, Ben?” 

He turns, and she gets a waft of his smell. He must be sick of holding the towel up, because she sees his hands working to twist it so it stays up. The knot makes the towel sag a little, revealing more of his hips, and Rey wants to lick that spot, and then continue on a meandering downward trajectory—

“Yeah, Rey?”

She pauses. Rey thinks of regrettable one night stands with big consequences, sprained ankles, car accidents, any number of life’s chaotic curveballs and how few choices you actually get to make in life. 

She looks at his face, how open it is. “After all of...this, would you want to get a drink or something? Like, not as roommates?”

“Yeah.” He grins, bracing himself with an arm on the doorframe, looking at her for a long time. “I’d like that a lot.”

* * *

It only takes 15 minutes to drive there, but Ben seems more anxious than she does about getting there on time. (“Traffic,” he says. “There’s never traffic in that direction,” she says, searching for her lucky sweatshirt. “But Rey, don’t you want to be sure?”) They leave 30 minutes before her appointment. 

On the radio, they listen to talk of future Supreme Court judges. Rey frowns out the window as the hosts talk neutrally about the possibility of Roe v. Wade getting overturned. Ben turns it off when they interview a woman who was forced into a counseling session before her abortion. 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault,” she says, stretching in the seat. “It’s just insane how different it is from state to state.”

“It’s cool that it was, so, you know. Easy to get.”

“Yeah. I almost felt...not guilty. Just mad about how easy it was for me, versus most people. It’s covered by my insurance. It’s only a 15-minute—not thirty minute— drive. Thinking of all those poor women...I donated a hundred bucks to that place that pays for abortions in the South when I found out. God. If fucking Mitch McConnell is successful...”

“Did you know he was actually pretty pro choice early in his career? Like, in the 1960’s.”

“Really? That slimy...I don’t even know what to call him.” 

“Yeah. I read this really long article about him. Did you know—” He looks at her. “We don’t have to keep talking about this. I don’t want to stress you out.” 

Thoughtful and hot and smart and a good driver and a great cook, and and and and— “No, tell me. The rage makes me stronger.”

He laughs, and tells her about how someone’s dying regret was endorsing McConnell in their newspaper, and how all of McConnell’s daughters oppose his politics. It doesn’t make Rey less anxious, but it does make her feel more confident about her moral fortitude. 

* * *

There’s one protestor. A blonde woman with a handmade “Abortion = murder” sign. (Honestly, it’s kind of pathetic, Rey thinks pityingly. Someone should have alerted this bitch to the existence of colors other than brown in her Crayola discount pack.) Rey stands in front of her and doesn’t say anything, just glaring at her until the woman takes a tiny step back. 

Ben clears his throat behind her. “Rey? Do you want to head in? Be a little early for paperwork or whatever?” He moves forward to touch her lower back, nodding distractedly at the protestor. “Go fuck yourself.”

She turns, enjoying the feel of his hand, warm against her. “I’m going to get an abortion and I’m so excited,” she calls behind her as they walk into the lobby. Ben keeps his hand on her back the entire way up. 

* * *

“I want a sticker,” Rey says in the waiting room, looking at a toddler with an Elsa sticker, accompanied by his very pregnant mother.

“Maybe they’ll give you one,” Ben says, not looking up from the spot-the-differences puzzle in the Highlights issue he’s absorbed in. 

“Rey Johnson?” the nurse calls. 

Rey stands. Ben stands. Then he sits back down. 

“Do you want company?” he asks, looking at her. His hair falls into his eyes, and he brushes it back, looking at her intently. 

Rey has done many things alone: walked across graduation stages, taught herself to cook. She learned how to insert a tampon from a YouTube video. She could do this alone. 

“I’d actually really appreciate it if you came,” she says, biting down on her lip. “I’m a little nervous. Thanks, Ben.”

* * *

“You can grip my hand as hard as you need,” Ben says, looking down at her. He has a weird expression on his face. Rey knows what Ben looks like when he’s genuinely relaxed—when there are zero dishes in the sink, when he’s sprawled out on the couch watching some documentary about Michael Jordan, saying “Pip” regretfully as he sips a beer—and his current face isn’t that. It’s like he’s trying to look relaxed for her sake, but can’t quite get there. 

“Ow,” he says after a few minutes, wincing. 

“Sorry!”

“No, it’s fine. Now I know what to expect. Hit me.” 

She squeezes again, enjoying how big and warm his hand is, trying not to look at the doctor’s movements beneath her. Rey shallowly wonders if the blue gown washes her out. Then she decides it probably doesn’t matter, because he’s here and letting her hold his hand as she goes through this stressful, stressful experience, and that’s enough goodness for right now. 

“I think you can do it harder.”

She rolls her eyes at him and complies. 

“So, what kind of upper body workouts do you do?” Ben asks thoughtfully, looking at her biceps, covered by the paper gown. 

“Um. I do a lot of yoga. And like, curls at the gym. When I go.” 

“Does yoga really do that much?”

“Yes, Ben. Here, want me to squeeze you again?” 

“I’m putting the IUD in now,” the doctor sings from between Rey’s legs. 

* * *

“All right,” the doctor says afterwards, standing and snapping off her gloves. “Any questions about anything?”

Ben squeezes her hand and heads to the door. “I’ll meet you out there?”

Rey nods, and waits for the door to shut before turning her head back to look at the doctor. 

“So, um. When can I have sex again?”

* * *

Everything seems to catch up with her as she walks into the waiting room—the stress she’s been holding in, not feeling comfortable in her body, a new loopiness in her brain—and she collapses against Ben when she sees him. He wraps a protective arm around her and frowns at a slow-moving person with crutches in front of them as they walk to the parking garage. 

“Our first date was my abortion!” she laughs semi-hysterically as she buckles her seatbelt, feeling relieved and happy and just so, so, so, so good? Like, incredibly good? Despite the occasional cramps? 

“Is this our first date?”

“Well. We went to a place and did an activity. I think it counts. Can I kiss you, Ben?”

“Are you sure?” He looks into her eyes, but not in a romantic way. “You seem pretty Valium-ed.” 

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since you insisted on carrying my boxes in when I moved in,” she proclaims, edging closer to him. 

“Oh yeah?” He leans toward her. “Well, I’ve wanted to kiss you since you glared at me while I tried to help you—”

“You sounded so grumpy!” Only now she knows that just how he can get before coffee, and now she just thinks it’s adorable, the way he always grumbles quietly as he sets up the Aeropress, especially if he’s let his need for coffee override his modesty, and he’s only wearing boxers.

“—And you told me you didn’t need any help, and started carrying two boxes at a time just to show me up, wearing those little shorts.” 

She puts a hand on his thigh, and kisses him, trying to show him how much she appreciates everything he’s done today, and how much more she wants to do with him as soon as she feels up to it. It feels like he’s excited for the promise of more, too, from the way he deepens the kiss, cupping her face, fingers digging into her hair a little in his enthusiasm, as his other hand goes immediately to settle at her hip. But it also feels like he’s completely happy with just this for now, if his sigh when she pulls away with a slight wince—a sudden cramp, reminding her that they’re in his car in the clinic parking lot, and she’s currently recovering from an abortion—is any indication. 

“Actually,” he says very seriously, looking at her with eyes shining with something happy and relaxed, something that matches her own mood. “I think it's only a date if I get you food. Want anything?”

“Can you make that tomato sauce that’s mainly butter? And can we get ice cream?” 

“Sure. Oh, I got you this.” He pulls something from his pocket and hands it to her. It’s a sticker of Peppa Pig.

She grins at him as she peels it and sticks it to her shirt. She yawns as she settles back into the seat, using her sweatshirt as a pillow. She’s exhausted. But Ben is here and she’s not pregnant anymore, and she feels the sun shining on her face when she closes her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> [Great, terrifying article](https://www.thecut.com/2020/09/ruth-bader-ginsburg-roe-v-wade-overturned-what-to-do.html) about what's at stake right now in the US, and why you should donate to abortion providers who specifically serve areas/communities where access is most limited (like[ The Yellowhammer Fund](https://yellowhammerfund.org/) and [Indigenous Women Rising](https://www.iwrising.org/abortion-fund)) instead of Planned Parenthood
> 
> [Mitch McConnell is the worst](https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2020/04/20/how-mitch-mcconnell-became-trumps-enabler-in-chief), but we all knew that already ([tl;dr of that article](https://twitter.com/rachael_scar/status/1307157517240119298), which really sums it up)
> 
> I also feel very strongly about harm reduction! While music festivals are unlikely to happen for a very long time, [please, please, please always test your drugs (especially if they're of unknown origin.)](https://dancesafe.org/drug-checking/) Fentanyl is in everything!
> 
> Since we probably all need a little joy via carbs right now, I highly recommend making [the three-ingredient Marcella Hazan pasta sauce](https://smittenkitchen.com/2010/01/tomato-sauce-with-butter-and-onions/). (One of the three ingredients is butter.)
> 
> Kylo Ren...Ben Solo...a spiritual successor to the iconic Goofus/Gallant dichotomy? *exhales bong smoke in your face*
> 
> Thanks to antlersantlers for recommending [this very cool-looking graphic novel](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25528454-not-funny-ha-ha) about two women's experiences with abortion
> 
> Since I'm just apparently listing PSAs now, one more very important thing that I really wish more people knew: do not use a Diva Cup (or any other menstrual cup) if you have an IUD! There needs to be more research, but [one recent study](https://journals.lww.com/greenjournal/Abstract/2020/05001/Menstrual_Cup_Use_and_Intrauterine_Device.3.aspx) found that after two years, 23% of people using both a menstrual cup and copper IUD experienced expulsion after two years (compared to 6% of non-cup users.) That's terrifying! 
> 
>   
> [ Occasional tweets here](https://twitter.com/kalx58)


End file.
